Panic Stations

Panic set in last night. I looked around the flat and thought ‘how on Earth are we going to clear this place out in a week’. So much still to do, and I don’t know if we’ve enough time to do it. My problem, as always, is that I’m trying to micro-manage. I don’t trust my always competent husband to be able to get things done. More than that, I crave minute details about how it’ll all be done: “If you drive the car there at that time, and your dad brings his car here, and then I meet you by train, and those boxes go there, and this goes here, and this needs to be done on this day and yo need to phone so and so on that day, and on and on and on”. I frustrated Julian big time. He told me just to go to work every day, stay as long as I need to at work in order to meet my deadlines, and he’ll get things sorted out. But I need to be in charge of it all. So letting go is very difficult for me.

It’s not like we haven’t moved before. In the eight years we’ve been together we’ve moved house six times, so I know it can be done, I know that next Thursday Julian will load up the removal van and take our furniture to his dad’s house, I know that I’ll clean the flat on Friday and hand over the key. So why do I always panic? Why do I always want to micro-manage? Acknowledging that I have a problem is the first step on the road to recovery, isn’t that what they say?!


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